


La Cour d'Ombe

by SystematicMusic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Umbra RP
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Gen, Multi, Murder Mystery, Original Character(s), Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:00:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27611057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SystematicMusic/pseuds/SystematicMusic
Summary: A professor finds herself facing the ghosts of her past in order to protect those around her.---NOTE: do not read this if you're looking for actual harry potter fanfiction. you will find no familiar names.This is an alternate universe story based loosely on character interactions from the Umbra RP server. It's entirely self indulgent hot garbage I'm writing for shits and giggles.
Kudos: 3





	La Cour d'Ombe

_“In the year 1774, the infamous Italian wizard Father Capello succeeded in summoning the dark forces of the la Cour d’Ombe, a group of Fae royalty now known for their psychic vampirism. At the time, Father Capello believed the court to be a representation of…” _  
A knock on the door jolted the professor back to reality, a quick glance at the clock on her wall revealing hours had passed since she first sat down. She sighed and took a moment to adjust her posture and place her quill back in its stand. The distraction wasn’t unexpected given her office hours, but students rarely made their way into her office outside of disciplinary action.__

__“Come in”_ _

__A petite girl with long golden blonde hair steps opens the door, her eyes trained to the floor in shame._ _

__“Is this about your test, Miss Williamson?”_ _

__“Yes Professor… I was wondering if I could maybe...?” She trailed off, leaving her implied question hanging._ _

__“You know I don’t offer do-overs in this class. It was on the syllabus.”_ _

__“But Professor! You scheduled it the day after Grandel’s Blessing! That’s _so_ unfair!” The Professor chuckled to herself as she stood from her desk, as the young student continued on about fairness and scheduling in relation to holidays. _ _

__“Life is not fair Miss Williamson. But I’m glad to hear that you’re passionate about your grades,” She smiled and met the eyes of the girl who stood in front of her. They we're brimming with fire and determination but behind them lurked the fear of disappointment. They reminded her of an old friend. “Tell you what. Write me an essay on the use of ritual magic in the Cult of Pythagoras and that grade will replace your test. I’ll make the offer open to the rest of the class on Wednesday.”_ _

__“Thank you so much professor! I promise I won’t fail this one.” she said, the tension easing out of her shoulders as relief washed over her._ _

__“I know Miss Williamson. Just don’t spend too much time cavorting under that the tables with that Gryffindor friend of yours, hm?” Her smile turned into a small smirk as the student blushed profusely._ _

__“T-that’s not what- I wasn’t, there’s nothing wrong wi-with, I can do wh-“ she stammered, clearly embarrassed about her escapade._ _

__“I jest, Miss Williamson. Now hurry on, don’t you have an essay to be writing?” The student nodded, turning on her heel and scurrying away down the hall without even closing the door. With light steps, the Professor walks to the entrance and takes some time to admire the nameplate on the door, reflecting on the events that had lead her here.__

___Meliora Astrum_ _ _

___Professor_ _ _

___History of the Dark Arts_ _ _

___Head of Ravenclaw House_ _ _

__It had been fifteen years since she started teaching and all that time seemed to have passed in the blink of an eye. Fifteen whole years since she left home, the ruins of her once great family in her wake. Since Cirice had…. Meliora shook her head and banished the thought of her sister from her mind. Cirice was long gone, buried in a crypt far away from here. Thinking about her would only bring pain. She looked over her shoulder, checking the clock again._ _  
"Perhaps a meal would do me good. I did skip lunch after all…"

__

__Twenty minutes later Professor Meliora Astrum was well on her way to the staff room, daydreaming of curling up with a large London Fog and a well loved paperback when she was yet again jolted back to reality by a familiarly warm hand on her shoulder._ _

__“Hello, darling.”_ _

__Meliora smiled and turned to give her partner a quick peck on the lips. She rested one hand on his hip, the other brushing a lock of hair out of his eyes._ _

__“Hello there Professor Wilhelm, I thought you were supervising Quidditch practice today?”_ _

__“Only until the weather turned.”_ _

__“But I thought it was supposed to be gorgeous all week?” She looked to the nearest window, surprised to see sheets of rain slamming themselves against the window. Her brow furrowed in confusion, if it had been raining that badly earlier, she should have noticed it when she was in her office._ _

__“You know how fickle the weather is here. Besides, this gives me more time to help Goff in his search for his missing bear traps.”With a deep grinding groan, the landing beneath them began to shift and move, connecting itself with a new set of stairs. Meliora’s stomach dropped as she tightened her grasp on Phorus’s waist. She hated the shifting stairs… Somehow more than she hated elevators._ _

__“Why can’t we just have magic escalators? Or regular stairs?” She asked, breathing deeply to try and settle the butterflies in her stomach._ _

__“Where’s the fun in that?”_ _

__“Stairs don’t need to be fun,” She huffed, making a beeline for the stairs the second that everything settled. “Stairs should be stairs, and I should be- "The world blurred and then went black as she fell to the ground. Her mind felt like it was filled with cotton and angry bees, as she laid there on the floor. In the distance she heard the clatter of rain against glass and anxious footsteps on stone floors. What had she been doing? Was she on the floor? She had to be, the stone was cold against her face and her bag of books dug uncomfortably into her stomach. Her head throbbed in pain as she cracked open her eyes. There was a floor, a window, one pair of shoes running away from and one running towards her. Someone was yelling, were they yelling her name? At the foot of the stairs she could see something blurry and brown, or maybe it was silver? She closed her eyes again, deciding that the darkness preferable to the confusion of the hall. Rain continued to patter against the window, each staccato tap a new burst of pain in her developing migraine. More footsteps. More yelling, this time from the paintings that line the halls. She senses someone stop in front of her, before feeling those same familiar hands scoop her off the floor. Slinging her arms around his neck she buries her face into her husband's shoulder, reveling in his warmth. He begins to carry her down the hallway, his pace quick._ _

__“Phorus…”_ _

__“Don’t worry Mel, I’m taking you to the Med Wing.”_ _

__“I know. That’s not what I’m worried about,” she mumbles, irritated by the sound of her own voice._ _

__"What do you mean?"Mel points to the base of the stairs, where a wicked looking trap lay open in the middle of the hall._ _

__"Is that what I think it is?"_ _


End file.
